


new kind of highs

by fulmentus



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 15:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulmentus/pseuds/fulmentus
Summary: Jane always thought she’s had all of her firsts. And then she met Petra Solano.





	new kind of highs

**Author's Note:**

> i slapped this together in between assignments and studying for finals, so hopefully it's not shit.

Jane always thought she’s had all of her firsts.

She’s experienced so many things in her thirty-some years that she swears she’s seen it all (has been jaded by it all) — all the world had to give.

And then she met Petra Solano.

* * *

**i.**

Now, Jane has investigated numerous types of people in her line of work. Far too many different types that she honestly has no desire to remember.

(A man a foot taller than her comes to mind, eyes bloodshot and bulging, hair covering almost every part of exposed skin. An old woman who wouldn’t stop prattling on about how her succulent plants were possessed by the ghost of her dead demon cat.

Not the ideal types of people to be questioning.)

But she’s never investigated a parrot.

Pammy the Parrot, specifically. Or rather, the man inside the suit. Who doesn’t seem to ever really be out of the suit, and Jane really can’t blame Petra for calling him ‘Parrot Guy’ all the time — where is his name tag?

She follows him for a bit, keeping her distance. Observes how he goes about his day at the Marbella, entertaining kids on treasure hunts, meandering through the lounge to give the eating children some type of entertainment.

She approaches him when he’s off in a corner alone, probably taking a break, and he looks at her through the parrot mask. Even without seeing his face, Jane already knows this is ridiculous.

She waves him off with a quick _never mind_ and leaves.

“Okay,” Jane begins once Petra opens the door to her suite, “so Parrot Guy has done nothing suspicious.”

“Well,” Petra grunts, “I never expected him to be the culprit, really.”

Petra offers her a glass of water, motions subdued, and Jane just sighs.

* * *

**ii.**

Petra is far from forthcoming.

If there’s anything Jane learned in their first couple months of dating, is that Petra does not reveal information willingly. She sits on things, stews silently, or snaps — lashes out with barbed words and scathing remarks.

Or, in most cases when it comes to Jane, she flounders.

And seeing Petra flounder after hearing so much about how she’s cold, calculative, _manipulative_ , is quite the sight.

She’s pacing her office, all restless nerves and fluttering hands, unable to keep still, and Jane watches with a quirk to the corner of her lips, amused and waiting. Petra tires herself out naturally, breaks the silence when she sees fit.

Jane just waits, leans back in her chair, arms folded across her chest.

“Okay, so you asked how I figured out I like you,” Petra blurts finally, stopping in her tracks to glance at Jane before resuming.

“Yes,” Jane says, drawing out the syllable. She arches a brow. “You decide to answer me _now_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Petra snaps, looks contrite for a second before huffing, whipping around to face away from Jane.

(Jane finds it entertaining, observing this side of Petra.

A side soft and awkward and not at all put-together. It makes Jane feel as though she’s been offered a small window, a sliver of space to peer into.

See something in Petra no one else has.)

“I—” Petra exhales sharply through her nose, brings a hand up to her forehead. “I may have had a…” She shoots Jane another look, and Jane waves a head, encourages her onward. Petra sighs. “A sex dream… about you.”

Petra lifts her chin, dares Jane to laugh, but it’s so starkly contrasted by the way her voice tapers off toward the end, how she can’t seem to meet Jane’s gaze when she turns around.

And Jane, well, she doesn’t know what to say to this information. She thinks back, back to when they first met, lawyer and client — blackmailed and targeted, desperate and equally desperate. Tries to pinpoint exactly when Petra… and oh, _oh_.

She laughs. Jane laughs, nearly keeling over in her seat as she does.

“Honestly,” Petra scoffs from above her, and Jane tries, oh she tries to stop.

But really. It’s no wonder Petra acted so strangely when Jane went to bail her out. It all makes sense now. The stilted words, the slight jolt whenever Jane so much as stood next to her, said something that could be construed… differently.

( _I’m going to get you off, Petra_.

Oh, Jane can’t help but laugh a little harder.)

“JR, _come on_.”

Jane flaps a hand. Draws a breath to sober, and oh, the look on Petra’s face is almost enough to make her guffaw again. Pouty lips and hands propped on her hips, eyes such a bright blue as the sun catches in their depths.

“Sorry,” Jane manages to get passed the residual laughter, “sorry. That’s not what I expected.”

“You can’t honestly believe you’ve never been the cause of someone’s sexual awakening,” Petra snorts, moving a little closer, arms dropping form her sides. She’s blushing, and Jane thinks it’s cute, seeing her all flustered. “Because you,” she gestures to Jane’s entire body, “you’re just…” She sniffs. Doesn’t continue.

And Jane gets up from her chair, extends a hand to settle on Petra’s waist, pull her close. “Just so you know,” her eyes flick between Petra’s, “you’re the first to actually admit that to me.”

Petra rolls her eyes, picks at nonexistent fuzz on Jane’s blazer. “Well, I heard from someone that honesty is good.”

“JV?”

“JV,” Petra sighs, tilts her head forward so that their foreheads knock together.

Jane smiles, crooked and very much endeared. She lifts a hand, runs her fingers through the blonde strands at Petra’s temple. “Well, I’m honored.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be a straight woman’s guinea pig,” Petra says, smug and proud, all traces of former embarrassment gone.

And she didn’t. Jane never wanted to be a straight girl’s experiment. Has had quite enough experience with the heartbreak and frustration that follows.

“But you’re not straight,” Jane leans closer, their lips brushing against each other’s, eyes pinned directly on Petra’s darkening gaze,“are you?”

“No,” Petra breathes, “I’m not.”

* * *

**iii.**

Jane knew that when they decided to be official, _I want to be serious with you_ briefly shooting through her mind again, that she was going to need to adjust. That being with Petra means she’s going to be introduced to certain people.

That being with Petra means that Anna and Ellie are going to be part of her life now. A package deal.

And Jane is… okay with that.

The girls are well-behaved enough, don’t seem to poke their noses into everything like most kids their age _do_ , but they do want Jane’s attention at times. Whenever they look to her, expectant, expressions mirroring that of Petra’s almost exactly, Jane has no idea what she’s supposed to be doing.

She’s never had to deal with children.

She doesn’t have any younger siblings, and the only people she’s ever had to care about were her mother and herself. So, whenever one of the girls comes to her, Jane tries to handle it as well as she can with the limited knowledge she possesses.

( _You’re wonderful with them_ , Petra reassures her, smile soft and warm and it melts something inside of Jane. _I promise._

 _I don’t know what I’m doing with them,_ Jane admits with a laugh, ducks her head. _I don’t like kids._ )

(She keeps saying that, over and over, but whenever she spends time with the girls, it starts feeling less and less true.)

Jane adjusts her life, as she’s done numerous times before. Adjusts so that it can fit the girls in — because they’re important to Petra, because they’re oddly cute after Jane watches them for a while (because they smile and her, toothy and wide, and it feels like _family_ ).

Jane just never bargained to have siblings either.

And well, maybe calling Rafael and Jane Villanueva siblings is a stretch, a little strong, but it’s the only word Jane can think of as she spends more time with all of them. Together. As one strange, haphazard family unit.

JV drops by often with her son, often calling on Petra for something or another, or because Petra needs something, or merely because she wants to say _hi_. But Jane’s known from the beginning that JV _wants_ to be liked, so she nods along whenever JV invites her, lips pressed in a thin smile.

(She grows on Jane eventually, recommending books at times whenever they run into each other.

 _And I checked_ , JV says, a glint in her eye and a smirk curling her lips. _This one has not been accused of slander. Ever_.

Jane just shakes her head, laughs a little because this is her life apparently.)

And Rafael, he’s like the younger brother Jane never had. Constantly underfoot, hounding her for opinions when his own older sister is unavailable. Hailing her for a drink whenever they cross paths in the lounge.

(He really does have a good taste in scotch.)

But she allows it, prods him for information on good vacation spots that have good alcohol, lets him talk to her about whatever is on his mind because _Petra trusts you, and the girls adore you, so_. And he’ll shrug like that’s all that needs to be said.

Jane doesn’t really know when she adopted two little girls that seem to have somehow wrapped her around their pinkies, or when she acquired two younger sibling-like individuals that want her company, but she won’t complain.

Not when Petra’s smile rivals the sun whenever she sees Jane interacting with the girls, not when Jane herself feels like she’s at home for the first time in years.

(Her mother smiles at her when Jane brings it up the next time she sees her.

Smiles and smiles and smiles, and _I’m happy for you, Jane._ )

* * *

**iv.**

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen a telenovela?”

Petra looks downright _shocked_ by this information. Mouth agape, both eyebrows raised, eyes wide and incredulous.

“Should I have?” Jane asks, steeples her hands and rests her chin on top of them.

“Wait until Jane hears about this,” Petra mutters, and Jane doesn’t know what to make of the shift she sees across Petra’s face — how quickly it transitions from utter disbelief to contemplation to outright _dangerous_.

“What?”

“Jane,” Petra flicks her hand, clicks her pen so she can write something down, “and her family _love_ telenovelas. Her father is a _telenovela star_.” She glances up at Jane, sends her that smirk that makes Jane feel far too many things at once. “She’s going to go crazy.”

And oh, JV does indeed go crazy.

She traps Jane in a hallway, looking just as shocked — if not even more so — as Petra was. She splutters, goes on about how they are _tradition,_ and _how have you not seen at least one? Even Petra has!_

That’s how Jane finds herself squished on the Villanueva couch between JV and Petra, JV’s family scattered throughout the living room, marathoning every telenovela JV has in her house.

(It’s a lot.)

* * *

**v.**

Petra cries when Jane gets down on one knee, Aida looking on in the background, eyes overflowing with her own tears.

And Jane, Jane’s holding back her own, throat tight, lungs constricting, and practically every other organ in her body threatening to revolt because Jane’s never been this nervous before. Never has done this for anyone before.

“ _Yes_ ,” Petra chokes out, “ _yes, yes, yes._ ”

Jane gets up then, ready to slide the ring onto Petra’s finger, but Petra leaps at her, arms wrapping tightly around her neck, face burying itself in her shoulder where Jane can feel the wetness of her tears seeping through her shirt. She laughs, wet and so, so happy.

Jane pulls away from Petra, just long enough to see how bright her smile is, how her eyes seem to glow behind her tears, before Petra tugs her back into a searing kiss.

“We’re getting married,” Petra laughs once they part, hands sliding down to entwine with Jane’s.

“Yeah,” Jane sighs, pressing their foreheads together, “we are.”

Aida congratulates them both with tight hugs, crying even harder than Petra was.

///

Jane nearly cries when Petra walks down the aisle. Feels the tears gather in the corner of her eye, presses her hands together to keep them from reaching.

Petra cries more when they read their vows (later, she tells Jane that she’s never been surrounded with so much happiness before, by so many people who loved her for her, by people who _she_ loved).

The ceremony is wonderful and not all bells and whistles because they both hate that. It’s small and intimate, and everything Jane never knew she wanted.

* * *

**\+ one**

Jane fits the key into the lock, hesitates for a moment to look over her shoulder at Petra, who stands a little ways behind her, anxious and gnawing her lip in anticipation.

“Ready?” Jane asks.

Petra nods, determined. She straightens her back, her shoulders, steadies her feet. Moves so that she’s standing right beside her. “Ready.”

Jane lets out a breath, twists the key, and pushes the door open.

The interior is _perfect_. They both agree the house in everything they want as they poke through the rooms, the kitchen, the patio in the back.

“I’ve never lived with someone other than my mother before,” Petra reveals, tracing a finger across lacquered cupboards. “Or my daughters.”

Jane wraps her arms around her waist, hooks her chin over Petra’s shoulder. “Neither have I.” Her gaze flits about once more, takes in the place that’s soon to be _theirs_. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” Petra sags into her, back pressing against her front. She tilts her head to the side. “I love you.”

Jane presses a kiss to the side of her neck, works her way up to behind Petra’s ear. “I love you, too.”

They move into the place a few weeks later, the girls running across the floors with Mateo in tow, Rafael and JV helping by moving boxes from the cars and into the house. Petra heckles Rafael, barking at him whenever he sets something down in the wrong place.

And it’s here as Jane looks upon this scene, basks in the golden glow that filters through the open windows, that she decides this is by far her favorite first.

(Petra doesn’t stop gloating when Jane tells her so.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> title from: still falling for you - ellie goulding


End file.
